


Camping Blues

by chvotic



Series: Irondad/Peter Parker Whump Fics [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Camping, Crying, Father-Son Relationship, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Homesickness, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Nicknames, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), School Trip, Sick Character, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Swearing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vomiting, Worried Tony Stark, he gets what he deserves, not really but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chvotic/pseuds/chvotic
Summary: Vomit splattered onto the ground as he tumbled outside into the darkness, but most of it went down his front and soaked his sweater and pants.Inside the tent, Flash could be heard complaining. “Ew, ew,EW!Oh my god- he fucking puked on me!”Or, in which, Peter gets sick on his school camping trip.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Irondad/Peter Parker Whump Fics [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700947
Comments: 17
Kudos: 547





	Camping Blues

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure how i wrote so many words for this... but i had so much inspiration for once :o
> 
> so, the camp itself is based off of a camp i went on around 3(?) years ago, so the day-by-day events are things that happened to me/things that i did (but i didn't get sick like peter does, nor did i have tony to save the day lol). if you want more context, please read the end notes because i'll explain some things there!
> 
> this is also based of an australian camp, i have no idea if americans do this but i couldn't care less. all original characters are based off of the irls i went on this camp with (ew)
> 
> also vomit warning if that stuff makes you queasy.
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing!

Peter was feeling sick the before he even got on the bus.

At first, he had assumed it was the nerves. He had been anxious all week about his school camping trip, the anxiety practically following him around like a shadow. When he didn’t have a distraction, he’d think about the trip, and how he didn’t want to be away from May and Tony for so long.

It was a nine-day camping trip. _Compulsory_ camping trip.

At the word _compulsory_ , May decided to force him to go. Peter had complained endlessly to Tony, who agreed with Peter to everyone’s surprise. It was obvious the man loathed, or had never been, camping. He even tried to cook up a plan to get Peter out of it, but May had seen right through them.

It wasn’t that Peter hated camping. He actually didn’t mind it. It was just the thought of being stuck with people in his year, cramped in a small tent, away from home. The last time he’d been camping was a few years ago with May and Ben.

Peter had always gotten homesick. Whether it be an overnight stay at Ned’s or a school trip like this, he always got homesick one way or another. He couldn’t help it.

So, at first, he had blamed his sick stomach on his nerves. He felt horrible the entire way there, though managed to distract himself by talking to Ned about the new Star Wars Lego set that was coming out while they were gone.

When he and Ned fell into silence and he no longer had a distraction, Peter was left to think about how shitty he felt, and how much he wished he was in his apartment with May or in the lab with Tony right now.

Tony had even offered to smuggle Peter from the trip before the bus left, but they both knew that would cause even more problems. May would castrate the both of them.

At this point, he’d rather be grounded then go on this trip.

They arrived at their first campsite in the late afternoon. It had been a long bus trip with regular stops, but by the end of it, all their surroundings looked the same and he was becoming increasingly agitated.

He also felt incredibly exhausted despite not having done anything but sit in a bus all day.

Their camp leader greeted them cheerily, though Peter wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.

They packed their hiking packs and then dumped their suitcases back in the bus afterwards. More than half of Peter’s stuff he had to leave in there because it either wasn’t needed or didn’t fit in the pack.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Peter grew more and more tired. The more tired he felt, the more he longed for home, and the more irritable he became. It was especially hard not to gain a temper when Flash yelled left and right about what he should or should not put in his pack, then complained when he wasn’t allowed to take something.

After their packs were finished, they set up tents.

“No!” Flash whined, both Peter and Ned’s jaw’s slack as they stared at their camp leader, Lachie’s, amused face. “Why can’t I have my own tent?”

“There isn’t enough, and you can’t be on your own. Sorry boys, but the three of you are going to have to share.”

His day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Nine days of sharing a tent with Flash.

_Fucking fantastic._

Together, with endless complaints from Flash, the three of them managed to set up their tent and organise their sleeping bags.

Peter was stuck in the middle, of fucking course.

-

“Are you okay?” MJ asked sometime after the sun had set, the tiniest bit of concern in her tone. The group had just made dinner and finished telling each other what they were ‘grateful for’ from the day’s events. The entire thing made Peter want to barf.

“Yeah.” Peter mumbled; eyes focussed on the campfire that crackled away in front of them. It was getting cold out, his jacket doing little to keep him warm. “I’m fine.”

“Do you miss home?”

_Damnit._

MJ could always see right through him no matter _what_ he said.

“Yeah. A bit.” As he spoke, he let his shoulders slump a little. “But I’m fine.”

“Well, Ned and I are always here to talk or if you need a hug or something.”

She had said it offhandedly, as if she didn’t really care, but Peter knew she did. MJ had a weird way of showing her emotions, but he knew she would genuinely let him cry on her shoulder if he asked.

So, he smiled.

“I know. Thanks.”

He got a faint twitch of the lips in response.

The rest of their time awake passed quickly, and soon, Peter was stuck inside the tent trying to fall asleep.

It was incredibly uncomfortable. They had been given a thin foam mat to lie on, which was basically the equivalent to lying on the ground itself. He was pretty sure they’d pitched their tent on top of a mound of rocks, given that he could feel them digging into his back. No wonder Flash had been so adamant on making him sleep in the middle.

Peter had rolled up one of his jumpers and stuck it under his head for a makeshift pillow, given that they weren’t allowed to bring their own. It wasn’t soft at all, and it hurt his neck.

In his arms was another one of his jumpers, which Peter held close to his chest, wishing that it was his bear.

But it wasn’t, and he felt like even more of a baby for even _having_ a teddy bear.

Peter fell asleep after a short while, only to wake up freezing cold with a splitting headache. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but it clearly wasn’t long.

Peter groaned quietly and shifted, tugging his sleeping bag tighter around his shoulders. He rolled onto his side, facing Ned rather than Flash, and pulled his beanie over his head more so it covered his eyes and ears. He shivered, his stomach churning so uncomfortable he found it hard not to move.

It was windy outside, the tent rustling with every gust. It felt claustrophobic, and in that very moment, Peter felt terribly overwhelmed and alone, even though there were two other people in such close vicinity to him.

Tears began to pool in his eyes as he laid there, feeling like shit.

It wasn’t long before he was crying silently into his hands, curled up as much as he could in his sleeping bag and he longed to be home. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and he was already crying.

He hugged his jumper tight and sniffed silently, his whole body quivering as he held the sobs in, desperate not to wake any of his tent mates up.

After a while, despite how sick he felt, Peter cried himself to sleep.

-

He woke up to Lachie hitting against their tent. “Good morning, boys. Time to wake up.”

Flash grumbled beside him, Ned already in a seated position. He must have woken up earlier.

Peter just laid there, eyes sore, stomach feeling like it was cramping.

He wanted to cry again.

After a while he sat himself up and began to pack his sleeping bag back into its bag, his lower lip beginning to shake the longer he sat there. His stomach hurt.

“Are you okay?” Ned whispered to him after a while, obviously having noticed the distress Peter was trying so hard to hide.

“Yeah.”

Ned didn’t push, and they continued to pack up. They were moving campsites today. They were moving campsites everyday.

Even worse, apparently, they were canoeing to their next location today.

Breakfast passed quickly, though Peter didn’t have an appetite. He ate anyways.

Soon, the campsite was packed up and they moved on to the river. A dozen canoes were waiting for them on the riverside, Peter’s gut twisting violently when he looked out to the water. MJ materialised beside him; the concern still evident in her expression.

“How did you sleep?” She whispered after a few moments, Lachie beginning to explain where they were headed and who they were going to be sharing their canoes with. Sadly, they couldn’t pick their partners.

“Alright. Got a sore back though.”

“Same.” MJ groaned. “Betty made me sleep on a rock.”

“Me too.”

Lachie interrupted before MJ could reply.

“Peter, you’ll be with Flash.”

Peter didn’t move for a moment.

He was pretty sure this Lachie bastard hated him. “Okay.”

Flash didn’t seem too pleased either, but he didn’t say a word, to everyone’s surprise.

“Good luck.” Both Ned and MJ whispered to him. Peter just nodded and sighed. A moment later, Lachie handed him a lifejacket and assisted him when he couldn’t get the straps on correctly. Flash scoffed and rolled his eyes behind the camp leader, swinging his ore around as if he were getting ready to hit Peter with it.

As soon as they were on the water, Peter thought he might vomit right there and then.

The gentle movement of the water made him feel so much worse. He didn’t think it was possible to get seasick in a canoe, but here he was.

He and Flash didn’t speak the entire time, and Peter was pretty sure the boy was doing most of the work. Peter’s arms burned with exertion, tears once again building in his eyes as he genuinely began to feel like he was going to be sick. Betty, who had partnered with their leader, sailed past and made small talk that Peter didn’t engage in. It was about sports anyways.

By the time they reached the campsite, Peter felt dizzy. He staggered out of the canoe, barely able to yank his hiking pack out with him. Flash offered no help, and even gave him a rough shove in the shoulder that almost knocked Peter over as he stormed past.

Of course, Peter’s senses had warned him before it happened. But he let himself get pushed, just like he always did.

Peter ignored it and continued his struggle to get his pack on his back.

Their new campsite wasn’t as good as the first. There were no working toilets, just a drop toilet. But all Peter wanted to do was _sit down._

Once tents were set up and ready, Peter sat down on a log and brought his knees to his chest. Ned, MJ, Betty and Flash were all on dinner duty. Peter was on clean up.

“Everything alright, Peter?” Lachie suddenly appeared in front of him, his concern obvious.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bit tired.”

“That’s understandable. Hopefully a good night’s rest will make you feel better, we’ve got more canoeing to go tomorrow!”

Peter fucking hated the enthusiasm in his voice. He just smiled, and thankfully, the man left him alone.

-

Peter couldn’t eat his dinner.

Every bite he took tasted disgusting, and his stomach felt sensitive. He had a pretty good feeling it didn’t have to do with the nerves anymore, because he was sure he had some kind of fever. One minute, he would be boiling and sweaty, then another would pass, and he’d be freezing. It was freezing enough outside as it is.

But, he couldn’t be sick, right? He hadn’t gotten sick since the spider bite.

Maybe he had just been lucky _not_ to catch something this entire time.

A few hours passed, and he was back in the tent, cramped in the middle of Ned and Flash.

Peter was graced with a fitful sleep consisting of him waking up every ten minutes freezing cold, stomach hurting and head pounding.

“God, Penis, will you stop moving?” Flash snapped at him sometime into the night. “For fuck’s sake, I can’t sleep!”

“Sorry.” Peter mumbled, apology sincere, and ceased his movement the best he could.

He hugged his jumper close and curled up in a desperate attempt to both warm himself up and self soothe. The homesickness was making another appearance, and all he wanted was to curl up in his own bed at home or at the Compound.

Before he knew it, he was crying silently again.

-

The night passed agonisingly slowly. Lachie rapped on their tent to wake them up, and soon, Peter was going through the same breakfast routine as yesterday. Before he knew it, their tents were packed up and they were back out on the water headed to their new location.

Canoeing today was just as bad, if not worse, than yesterday.

After a brief break, Peter was finally allowed to be in a canoe with Ned. It was more enjoyable to have his best friend there, and it was especially good to have a decent distraction to stop him from the constant, uncomfortable churn that was occurring in his belly.

“Snack break?”

Peter nodded and kept rowing as Ned stuffed some biscuits into his mouth. They had a system where one would row and the other would have a small break, and it seemed to be working so far. Peter forced himself to eat, even though it made him feel worse rather than better.

God, all he wanted was to _sleep_. His body had been aching since he woke up at five thirty, and he wasn’t so sure if it was because of sleeping on the ground anymore.

_Everything hurt._

The canoed nearly all day, Peter being told after this corner that they’d be at the campsite.

Then, they’d turn the corner, and there was _another_ corner. This happened around five times before someone realised they’d sailed right past the campsite all together. Flash and a few others were the group leaders for the day, and thanks to the boy’s horrible navigation skills, they all had to turn around.

Lachie had obviously waited for them to figure it out, and Peter had never hated the man more.

Another few hours passed by, Peter now helping cook the group dinner. The smell made him want to hurl, but he managed to keep his composure enough to do his part.

Peter didn’t eat. He made sure to dump his food in the garbage back as discreetly as possible, despite knowing he should’ve eaten because of his high metabolism.

But if he was honest, Peter had been eating all day in a pathetic attempt to fend off the tummy ache.

Eventually, he was back inside the tent with his eyes locked on the roof.

Peter fell asleep after a little while, only to jerk himself out of a nightmare. Flash elbowed him but said nothing.

And yet again, the homesickness took over, and he cried himself to sleep.

-

Peter was a part of the ‘leading group’ for the day.

Every day, there were four leaders. It was Peter’s turn, and he’d been dreading it since he got here.

Today, they were hiking to their new location. He couldn’t think of anything worse.

“None of them are doing anything! _Fuck._ ” Megan, one of the other leaders, complained. She was whispering to one of her friends, but thanks to Peter’s senses, he could hear here. “I’m doing this all myself. I don’t even know if we’re going the right way anymore.”

Anxiety rose in his chest as he looked down at the map, hyper aware of Lachie approaching him. The group had stopped for a break, Peter, Ned and MJ all stood together as they gulped down their water.

Ned puffed beside him; cheeks red. He looked ready to drop.

Peter felt the same. With every step, he had felt like his knees were going to buckle. Now that he was stationary, his stomach really began to hurt, and he was freezing despite the warm temperature. It was taking everything in him not to keel over and hug his belly in an attempt to make it feel better.

“Do you want to tell the group to come over here?” Lachie asked him and took the map from his hands. Peter looked around, seeing that their group was split off into smaller groups that chatted amongst themselves, not paying attention at all. “Where are we going, Peter? This is led by you and the other three leaders, not me. You need to tell the group what’s happening next, that is your responsibility.”

“I don’t- I d-don’t know.” Peter mumbled, shame beginning to creep up on him. He wasn’t sure if Lachie was intentionally putting so much pressure on him or not.

“Come on, Pete, use your voice. Tell them to come over here.” Lachie said again, his tone teasing, but had a serious undertone. “This is what being a leader is all about, yeah?”

Peter shook his head and bit his lip.

Right now, he was sore and vulnerable and horribly homesick. He didn’t wantto speak to these people.

_And he hated himself for it._

“Just yell at them!” Megan snapped from beside him, and although she was smiling, Peter could tell she was annoyed with him. “Stop being so shy!”

Peter didn’t say a word and shook his head again. Both MJ and Ned fixed him with a worried gaze, though he avoided both their eyes as he huddled in on himself.

Eventually, Lachie stopped prodding and called the rest of the group over himself.

After the group had their debrief, Lachie came back over to him and started telling him what he should be doing and how to read the map. Overwhelmed tears burned in Peter’s eyes as he nodded along, trying his hardest not to let the dam break. Eventually, Lachie clapped him on the shoulder and smiled encouragingly, Peter just able to keep his tears at bay.

It was obvious Ned noticed he was close to tears but didn’t say a word. His best friend just smiled sadly and squeezed his hand for a few seconds.

The rest of the hike was _hell._ All the other leaders were angry with him, as was the rest of the group when he didn’t engage in the leadership role. Lachie also seemed displeased with him but didn’t express it. Peter hung back with Ned and MJ even when he was supposed to be up the front helping Megan lead the way.

“Are you cold?” MJ asked some time later. “You’re really pale.”

“I’m okay.” Peter whispered, but as always, MJ saw through his lie.

As they walked, she raised a hand to his forehead and felt the skin there. “You’re really warm. You have a fever. Are you sick?”

Peter sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve felt like shit since before we left. I thought I was just nervous. I didn’t think I could get sick after… you know.”

“You should tell Lachie.” She considered after a moment, in which Ned nodded along. No one mentioned the spider bite. “He might have some medicine for you.”

“No. I’ll be fine.” Peter denied. He didn’t like Lachie, and he didn’t want to ask the man for anything. “It won’t work on my anyways.”

“If it gets worse you should. They should at least help a little?” Peter saw MJ shrug out the corner of his eye. “Tony would probably come pick you up.”

“Yeah, right. In the middle of nowhere. He hates camping.”

“He’d come.”

“Yeah, Peter. He’d probably come in the suit and everything! Oh my God that would be so cool!” Ned cut in, Peter noticing he’d already gone into fanboy-mode. Even though he was freaking out, his voice was quiet enough that they couldn’t be overheard. “He’d swoop in and everything!”

Peter smiled a little. “No, he wouldn’t. He probably doesn’t even know where we are.”

The three of them chatted back and forth for the rest of the walk, Peter’s anxiety clearing just a little. Talking distracted him from the pain and the homesickness, and for a little while, he believed that maybe he’d make it through his trip without any more mishaps.

He was wrong.

-

It was that night when Peter _really_ began to feel horrible.

He leant against the table, on the verge of tears yet again, freezing his ass off. At the same time, he had sweat all over his body, and his stomach felt like there was a tornado inside of it.

MJ kept sending him worried glances as he sat there, both struggling to stay awake and keep everything in his stomach. Like yesterday, he’d forced himself to eat, and he hadn’t even been to the bathroom in a long time. He knew that was a bad idea, that he’d regret it later, but he couldn’t find the energy to move.

He pulled his beanie over his ears and groaned, the smell of dinner making everything ten times worse.

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” Ned whispered from his other side. “It might make you feel better.”

“No. I’ll wait.”

“Okay.”

Peter ended up with his head on MJ’s shoulder, though he wasn’t sure when exactly that had happened. All he knew was that he felt like shit and wanted to go home.

When he said he didn’t mind camping?

He lied.

He fucking hated it.

It was in this moment when Peter really wanted May.

He wondered what she was doing right now, if she was making her own dinner or working.

Peter missed her somuch.

Once dinner was served, Peter forced himself to eat it all. He felt too full by the end of it.

-

They were sent to bed early. Peter somehow fell asleep as soon as he laid down, only to find himself back in another nightmare. It was the same as always, about the night he crashed the plane, and it wasn’t long before he came to in a pool of sweat and tears.

Peter laid on his back for a few moments, before his stomach lurched.

He winced and sat up. He hugged his sweater to his chest as he curled forwards, stomach cramping painfully and uncomfortably. Peter couldn’t stop the tears as a shiver wracked his whole body, knowing that there was no way he was going to last the night _without_ throwing up.

Peter sat there for approximately two more minutes before he felt it.

He scrambled out of his sleeping bag, which jostled Ned and Flash in the process that earnt a collective groan from the two teens. Peter’s stomach gurgled and then he burped involuntarily, his hand quickly slapped on his mouth as he struggled to free himself from the bedding.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Flash snapped and rolled over; Peter barely able to see him.

“M-move!” Peter cried, feeling everything coming up. “F-Flash!”

“What, no!” Flash growled and glared up at him. “What the fuck do you want?”

“G-get out the w-way!” Peter whined, loud enough he was sure the whole camp would be able to hear him. _He wasn’t going to make it._ “Please!”

Peter burped again and he whimpered. He saw Flash’s nose scrunch up.

“That’s fucking gross.”

“Peter.” Ned suddenly said, and a hand gripped Peter’s shoulder. “Come out my do-”

_It was too late._

Peter gagged, and at first, nothing came up. It was then when Flash’s brain finally began to register what was happening, because the boy had sat up and was trying to open the tent’s zipper.

It was far too late for that.

Peter retched again, and this time he actually vomited.

The sickening sound of vomit hitting Flash’s sleeping bag echoed around the tent, Flash screeching in disgust. It had happened too fast for him to attempt to turn his head to aim somewhere else.

Peter sat there and stared at the mess for a moment. Then, his stomach gurgled again, and everything he’d eaten made a reappearance as it streamed past Peter’s lips and into Flash’s lap.

“Fuck!” Flash screamedand yanked the tent door open. Peter clambered over the top of the bully, ignoring the wet feeling of his puke on his hands and knees as he launched himself outside the tent with another loud gag. Vomit splattered onto the ground as he tumbled outside into the darkness, but most of it went down his front and soaked his sweater and pants.

Inside the tent, Flash could be heard complaining. “Ew, ew, EW! Oh my god- he fucking puked on me!”

“Shut up Flash!” Ned could be heard, a tent’s zip opening at the same time.

The vomiting ceased, and for a moment, Peter thought it might be over. By this time, Ned had knelt down beside him and started rubbing his back, flashlight out.

He could hear the faint sounds of confused chatter from other tents and another zip opening, but that was the least of his worries as his stomach continued to churn. He was done for now, but he knew it wouldn’t be the last of it.

“What’s going on?” That was their camp leader. Another torch shone on him, and a sympathetic sigh filled the air. “Oh no. Not feeling well?”

_No fucking shit!_

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he whimpered and tried to hug himself, only to pull back when he felt vomit on his clothes.

“Alright, Peter, why don’t you come and sit over here.”

Peter was helped to his feet by Lachie and Ned. Flash scrambled out of the tent a moment later, and Peter heard the teen squeal in disgust.

Flash had _stepped_ in his vomit.

“Oh my _god!_ ” Flash whined. “He fucking vomited on me!”

“Quieten down!” Lachie snapped as Peter sat down. “You’ve already woken everyone up.”

“I didn’t! Hedid!” Flash began to go through his pack. “My sleeping bag is ruined!”

“We have spares.” Lachie said with a sigh. “Alright, Pete. I’m going to go clean up your tent, alright? Do you feel like you’re done?”

Peter shook his head.

_He wanted to go home._

Lachie left him with Ned, who sat beside him with a sympathetic look.

“I’m s-sorry.” Peter whimpered. “I didn’t m-mean to.”

“Don’t worry.” Ned smiled and nudged his shoulder. “You threw up on _Flash._ And he stepped in it!”

Peter’s lips twitched a little.

He guessed Flash deserved that.

Peter didn’t feel any better than he had before he’d thrown up, he felt even worse.

He was covered in it. Tears leaked down his cheeks as he sat there in the dark with Ned beside him, the unpleasant smell hovering around them. He tried his best to ignore it as Flash complained to Lachie in the distance, but eventually, he felt whatever was left start to come up.

He groaned and leant forwards, then hiccupped. Ned tensed beside him.

Before he knew it, he gagged, and more vomit lurched up his throat. It splattered sickeningly onto the ground between his feet, Peter thankful that it was dark, and that he couldn’t see it as well. The smell was horrible, though.

He found himself sobbing by the end, unable to hold his tears back as he remained hunched over.

Lachie returned a short time after his second round. “Alright, Pete. We’ve cleaned out your tent and replaced Flash’s sleeping bag. You think you could go back to sleep after you get changed into some new clothes?”

Peter shook his head. “Bathroom.”

“Ned, could you take him?”

“Yeah.”

Together, in the dark, save for Ned’s flashlight, they made their way up to the drop toilet. Peter went in and just stood there for a moment. It was cold and smelt _disgusting._

Peter fell forwards and threw up a third time, quite sure he’d missed the toilet entirely.

He was in there around ten minutes before he resurfaced, stomach feeling a little more at ease now. Ned was still stood outside with an uncomfortable but sympathetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry.” Peter wiped his eyes. “This is gross.”

“Yeah. It is, but it’s okay. You can’t help it.”

Peter nodded once and they began to make their way back to camp.

The next period of time passed in a blink of an eye. He managed to get changed, not even bothering to hide inside of the tent. No one could see him except Lachie, and there was no point trudging back to the drop toilet to get changed. If he went in the tent, he’d only upset Flash.

He winced at the cold but changed quick enough that he barely noticed it. He dumped his vomit-sodden clothes in a garbage bag and put it inside his pack.

Looks like he’d be carrying those around for the rest of the trip.

Peter was hesitant to crawl back into the tent, noticing that Flash was on the opposite side of the small space in his new sleeping bag where Ned had been before Peter unleashed his stomach inside of their tent. The boy had his back to them, completely silent.

Ned had moved to the middle now, and Peter took up residence in Flash’s old spot. The tent smelt vaguely of sick, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was hardly there.

Peter curled up in his sleeping bag and shivered. He hugged himself, unsure when he had lost his beanie but ignored it for now.

Thanks to the exhaustion of the whole thing, Peter slowly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

_He wanted to go home._

-

Peter awoke to Lachie tapping their tent, just like he had the last few mornings.

He didn’t move. It felt like there were several weights on him, preventing him from getting up.

After a while, he forced himself to sit up, which caused his stomach to protest against the movement.

He rubbed his face, body incredibly sore. Peter was _exhausted._

No one spoke as they packed up their things and exited the tent.

MJ was waiting for them at the table, eyes locked on Peter. “I heard you last night.”

“Sorry.” Peter’s eyes stung with tears. Everyone was looking him.

“Are you alright?” She asked without acknowledging the apology. “It didn’t sound fun.”

“I want to go home.”

He rested his arms on the table and then put his head on them.

MJ ran her hand through his hair, and Peter couldn’t stop the tears when it reminded him of both May _and_ Tony.

“How’re you feeling?” Lachie asked him after a while. Peter shrugged and looked away. “We have a little to hike today, and we can’t get you a car until we’re at our next stop.”

A car?

Peter didn’t want a fucking car, he wanted to go home.

He didn’t voice any of those thoughts and nodded in submission. Lachie rubbed his shoulder before he began to address the rest of the group about breakfast.

At one point, Peter had to rush off to the toilet. It was extremely unpleasant, and it had Peter crying into the hands his entire time as he sat there. It felt like hours before the flow finally stopped.

When he returned to the group, food was out, and Peter almost vomited on the table. The smell was too strong.

He held it in and slumped beside Ned, not missing the obvious attempts of the other students moving away from him. Fuck, he hoped they didn’t know what he’d been doing in the toilet, because that was almost as embarrassing as throwing up on Flash.

No one mentioned it, and Peter tried to forget about it.

-

As soon as the hike started, Peter wanted to die.

Every step jostled his sensitive and cramping stomach. His heavy pack threatened to drag his weak body down, the constant fear of urgently needing to use the bathroom hovering in the back of his mind as they hiked through the bush. He’d never be able to live thatembarrassment down.

Around halfway, Peter found himself bent over a bush. He threw up onto the leaves, a chorus of _ew_ and _gross_ emitting from the students behind and in front of him.

Once he was finished, Lachie had him drink some water. Then, they continued like nothing had happened.

When they finally reached the next campsite, Peter stumbled his way over to the drop toilet.

He wanted to go home _so bad._

When he returned, Lachie was looking at him.

“I want to go home.” Peter said without really thinking. Lachie was holding some kind of phone that looked fairly outdated, but Peter knew it had something to do with being so far out of cell reception.

“That can be arranged.” Lachie replied. “If a parent is willing to drive out here. We can have a car brought up and they can take you to the nearest town. But it might take a long time. You might as well stick with the group for the next few days.”

That was the last thing Peter wanted.

May wouldn’t be able to drive up here. No way. But Tony… he had the suit.

“Um, Mr- T- my D-Dad.” Peter caught himself at the last second, then paled at the three letter word that left his mouth. “He can come get me.”

“Alright.” Lachie rustled through his bag. He seemed a little unconvinced. “His number on your forms?”

Peter panicked. “Uh-”

Only May’s number was on his forms, Peter was sure of it.

Lachie already had his form out, eyes already scanning the information.

“Your emergency contact is… Tony Stark? Is he your Dad?”

Peter gaped. “Uh- y-yes.”

“I’ll give him a call.”

Peter nodded, a little shocked. He stepped away when he felt his stomach cramp but was thankful when nothing came up.

“Yes, hello, Mr. Stark.”

Peter turned around, a little woozy on his feet. He hadn’t even been aware that Lachie had dialled Tony’s number.

_“Who is this and how’d you get my private number?”_

Tony’s distant voice made its way to Peter’s ears, and he had never been more relieved to hear it.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is Lachie from your son’s camping trip. I’m his group’s leader.”

Peter froze.

There was a brief pause before Tony spoke.

_“Is Peter okay?”_

Tony didn’t seem to acknowledge what Lachie had called Peter, which sent a wave of relief through him as he slowly began to head back to the camp leader. His gut still churned, but he ignored it in favour of listening to their conversation. At the same time, Peter spotted Ned and MJ approaching him.

“Peter’s quite unwell. He woke up last night and threw up around three times, I’d assume he may have the flu or stomach flu even. I’m a little worried it might have been passed onto other students. He said you can come pick him up?”

_“Yes, of course I’ll pick him up.”_

“Alright. When do you think you can be here? We have to be out to our next camp site early tomorrow mo-”

_“Tonight. I’ll be there in a few hours.”_

“What’s going on?” MJ asked once they’d reached Peter. “Are you going home?”

“I think so. He’s calling… Tony.” Both their eyes widened. “Right now.”

“How? Doesn’t he need his number?”

“It was on my forms.”

“Tonight?” Lachie repeated after a moment, Peter’s attention brought back to the call. “It’s a long way-”

_“I’ll be there. Can I talk to Pete?”_

“Of course.” Peter quickly looked away and made it like he hadn’t been listening to everything. “Peter, your Dad wants to talk to you.”

Peter took the phone from the man and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, son.” Tony cracked up, but the worry was still evident in his tone. “Dad, huh?”

“I want to come home.” Peter ignored his mentor, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Now that he was talking to Tony, the homesickness felt worse. “I’m sick.”

“You’re actually sick? I thought you couldn’t get sick.” Tony replied. “How bad is it, bud?”

“I’ve been throwing up all day and night. And… can I just tell you when you get here?” Peter whined a little, and that seemed to sober Tony up. “It h-hurts and I don’t want to b-be here anymore. Please?”

“Of course, buddy. I’m already in the suit.” Peter relaxed a little. “So, tell me. When did you start feeling sick?”

“A few hours before I left. I didn’t think I could get sick either.” Peter found that his stomach was beginning to rebel against him again. “P-please hurry, Mr- Dad. I-it won’t stop.”

“I’m coming, Underoos. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? I’ll tell your aunt what’s happening as well.” Tony paused for a moment. “Hang tight, kiddie. I’m coming. See you in a bit.”

“Okay. T-thank you. Lo-” Peter bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying what he really wanted to. “I’ll see you soon.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and that’s when Peter knew Tony had heard what he was about to say.

“Will do.”

Peter handed the phone back to Lachie and hugged himself. MJ and Ned stuck with him until dinner, Peter unable to keep himself awake. So, he retreated to the tent after another round on the toilet. The tent still smelled vaguely of vomit, but he ignored it and pulled his beanie and gloves on.

He borrowed Ned’s sleeping bag and used it as a pillow for the time being. He hadn’t actually intended to fall asleep, but he did.

He felt content, because Tony was _coming._

-

Peter awoke to someone gently caressing his cheek.

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, stomach still cramping horribly. He looked up, eyes blurred, his beanie almost completely off of his head. There was no one else in the tent with him, so that meant he hadn’t been asleep for too long. He was also freezing, yet he could feel the sweat all over his body.

When he looked up to see whose thumb was stroking his cheek, he was surprised to see that it was Tony.

“Hey Pete.” Tony smiled; the man leaning over him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

Tony laughed quietly but froze when Peter’s eyes started to tear up. “Aw, buddy. Don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“It hurts, Mr. Stark.”

“I know it does.” Tony helped Peter sit up, the tears already pouring down his cheeks as he tried not to sob. Now that Tony was here, he couldn’t help but cry in both relief and pain. “But I’m here now, and I’m gonna take you home. Yeah? Camping sucks anyways.”

“Mhm.” Peter hummed in response and raised his arms in a silent plea for a hug before he could even think about it.

Tony sent him a wobbly smile. “Come here, Underoos.”

Peter leant forward into Tony’s chest, then heaved in a deep, shaky breath. Tony hummed if affirmation as he wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders and squeezed tight, a kiss soon pressed to his temple.

Peter sucked in the comfort like a sponge.

“Shh, shh.” Tony shushed him when the sobs began, Peter powerless to stop them. “It’s okay.”

Peter remained in Tony’s hold for as long as he could before his stomach had other plans.

He pulled away in one quick motion, barely able to turn away before he was throwing up all over his sleeping bag.

“Shit.” Tony said as Peter hiccupped, watery puke spilling off of his sleeping bag onto his mat. “Let’s get you out of here. Up you get, bud. That’s it.”

Peter staggered out of the tent with Tony’s help, unable to stop himself from tucking into the man’s side. He peered over to the shelter, where everyone was looking at them. Just to the side stood Tony’s suit, active and alert, almost like a protective barrier between Tony, Peter and the rest of the students.

If everyone was still awake, that meant Peter hadn’t been asleep for long. But it just have been a while, because it would take Tony a few hours to get there even if he was in the suit.

“Where’s your stuff?” Peter pointed to his pack that hid underneath the tent flap. Tony looked at it for a moment before he sighed. “Anything you care about in there?”

Peter shook his head.

“Good. Alright, let’s go. The Quinjet’s waiting.”

“Quinjet?” Peter mumbled.

“Yes. Quinjet. What, did you think I was going carry you all the way home?” Tony laughed and rubbed his arm. “I probably would have if you weren’t sick. Can’t have you blowing chunks in mid-air now, can we?”

“Mmm.” Peter hummed and pressed his face into Tony’s chest. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Tony asked as he hugged Peter a second time. “You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re not sick on purpose. It happens.”

“I’m g-gross.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, Pete, we’re getting out of here. Want to say bye?”

Peter shook his head. Ned and MJ, yes, the rest of them? No way. This was embarrassing enough as it is.

“Okay. I still have to talk to that idiot over there, so you’re going to have to come with me either way.” Peter sighed, but nodded, and peeled away from his mentor’s warm touch. “I’ll try be quick.”

Peter reluctantly followed his mentor over to the group. He leant heavily against Tony’s side when the man stopped, only just able to resist hiding his face from the multiple pairs of eyes watching him. Even Lachie had looked shocked.

Flash, of course, looked especially horrified.

“I’ll be taking him home now.” Tony said to Lachie, who nodded in silence. “Do I need to sign anything?”

“Uh, yes. Here.”

“Sorry, I don’t like being handed things.”

Peter looked at the ground as Lachie put the papers down on the table. Tony leant forward and signed it, his arm remaining tight around his shoulders.

“Um... Dad?” Peter mumbled and didn’t miss the gasp that definitely came from Flash. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, of course.” Tony didn’t even show if he was affected by the title and began to pull Peter away. He sent a small wave to Ned and MJ, who smiled and waved back. Then, Peter locked his eyes back on the ground as the armor followed behind them. “How’re you feeling now?”

“It still hurts.” Peter mumbled, wondering why they were headed into the pitch black. “Where are we going?”

“I forgot to tell you, sorry. You’ll have to ride with me for a little bit so I can get you to where I’ve had the Quinjet land. Think you can make it?”

“Did you really bring a Quinjet? Mr. Stark!” Peter whined, though his body hurt too bad for him to really care. He just wanted out, though the tears had come to a stop without him noticing. “Everyone’s going to see me.”

“What are you talking about? Kid, it’s fu- freaking freezing out here. I don’t want to make you sicker than you already are.” Tony laughed a little and rubbed his shoulder. “We’ll be gone before any of your friends can see, it’s fine. They’ll probably only hear the suit.”

The next few minutes passed in a haze. Peter had to let go of Tony so he could get in the suit, which made him realise how cold it was. Then, he ended up in his mentor’s arms bridal style as they soared through the freezing cold air.

If Peter thought canoeing on a lake was torture on his stomach, this was definitely worse. It didn’t seem to help his fever either.

Somehow, they made it to the jet without Peter throwing up. He was pretty sure he had nothing left to throw up.

The Quinjet was parked just to the side of a small country town in someone’s paddock. Tony didn’t let Peter go until they were inside and the door was closed, which only ended up in Peter almost vomiting in Tony’s face. It was hardly anything, just water now, though he felt horrible either way.

“Woah, kiddie.” Tony exclaimed as Peter’s knees buckled. “Alright. Fly us out of here.”

Peter wasn’t sure who was flying, nor did he care as Tony manhandled him over to some kind of bed. He was too exhausted to care as the man practically lifted him onto the bed and laid him down.

Tony disappeared from Peter’s vision from a moment, before he reappeared with a softened expression. “There’s a bucket right here just in case, okay?”

“Mmm.” Peter hummed and rolled his head to the side so he could see his mentor better. “S-sorry for making you come.”

“Stop it. I would’ve come no matter what the reason was.”

Peter smiled a little, before the tears came back.

He felt like he’d been crying a lot lately.

Tony noticed instantly, and worry morphed his expression immediately.

“Pete? What’s wrong?” Tony knelt down as he spoke, hand coming to rest in his hair. “What are the tears for?”

“I missed you.” Peter blurted before he could stop it. “I g-get h-homesick.”

A gentle smile crossed Tony’s face. “I missed you too, Pete. It’s been a long five days.”

Five days?

It felt like thirty.

“Thanks for c-coming to save me.” Peter whispered after the tears subsided a little, though they remained in his eyes. “I hate camping.”

“Aunt Hottie should have listened to us, huh?” Tony laughed and continued to run his hand through Peter’s hair. “And also, Dad?”

Peter felt himself pale. “I had to tell Lachie you were my Dad, so he’d call you.”

“Hmmm.” Tony hummed. “Makes sense. Alright, enough chit chat. Bedtime.”

Peter couldn’t agree more.

When he was on the cusp of sleep, his mouth moved on its own. He only registered the words just before he drifted into dreamland.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> so the whole crying himself to sleep thing is all me. i used to get really homesick lol, but i'm okay with it now. all the original characters including the 'camp leader' have the same names as the irl people, and man did i hate lachie lmao. i too was stuck in a canoe with someone i hated, and halfway i got to switch to be with my best friend and we had snack breaks like peter and ned did lmao. we also sailed right past the campsite thanks to someone's bad navigation.
> 
> the 'four leaders of the day' also happened to me, and peter getting stressed to the point of tears is a true story. it was so embarrassing ....
> 
> most things after that point didn't happen to me, obviously. i didn't get sick or anything, i made it the whole nine days aside from fucking up my ankles. i basically wanted to do a peter-gets-sick-on-schoolcamp fic, so i used my own experience to make that. i also didn't have iron man to come swoop me out in his quintet (as much as i wished he would)
> 
> this note's getting really long and i'm sure no one will read it, but i thought i might give a bit of a backstory to why this fic even exists in the first place
> 
> anwaysss thanks so much for reading!!!!


End file.
